


Zissou and the Unnamed Creature of the Deep

by Kass



Category: The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou (2004)
Genre: Gen, crossover Beowulf yuletide yuletide06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-17
Updated: 2008-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-01 23:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zissou goes in search of the creature who may have killed Esteban -- and it's not the jaguar shark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zissou and the Unnamed Creature of the Deep

**Author's Note:**

> This cracktastic crossover was written for Shee as part of Yuletide 2006. My infinite thanks are due to Ellen Fremedon, for the beta and for putting up with my inadequacies at writing actual Old English verse; and also to Speranza and Shalott for suggesting the crossover in the first place.
> 
> You can read my my commentary on how this story got written, if you're interested, [here](http://kassrachel.livejournal.com/450162.html).

Rest gives scant respite / from waking's worries. 

She strides the sea-roof / like a steed, 

Her journey uncharted / unfurling its pages. 

No father to scoff / at her plans for their son 

No husband to curl / round the curve of her body 

Or to hold in his arms / what she carries inside.

Glad was she, in days past / to dissolve in their coupling 

But now, with this lack / on the plain of her life 

She uncoils from her bed / and ascends with the sun

While a minstrel strums / on his sea-battered harp. 

Meanwhile miles below / on the muddied sea-floor 

A female form walks / through the turn of the night.

* * *

Jane has learned to ignore the dolphins chittering outside her porthole, but this night she is woken from a sound sleep by the sudden realization that the ship isn't moving. She curses—what's broken-down now?—and rolls over, tugging a pillow over her head.

Once awake, though, she finds she can't get comfortable in her bunk. Every way she turns, her belly seems to protrude. Finally she gives up, tugs on a bathrobe, and goes to make herself a cup of coffee.

She doesn't expect to run into anyone. It's well before dawn. But Zissou stands at the espresso machine, staring at it as though it holds some arcane secret.

Annoyance and empathy war in her heart. They both need Ned, after all, even if Zissou will insist on calling him Kingsley. "I'll make you a cup," she offers, reaching for the bag of ground espresso beans.

Steve turns. His face holds its usual vaguely melancholic expression, though his words are animated. "Just the person I wanted to see."

Jane measures enough for two. "Oh?"

"The dolphins woke me," he explains. "They wanted me to see something."

He's crazy as ever. Jane waits; there's little point in asking when he's obviously going to tell her anyway.

"There's something down there. Some kind of sea monster. The dolphins found it. I think I've been wrong about the jaguar shark. This is what actually took Esteban. I caught sight of it on the video monitor. I think it's pregnant."

It takes all of her considerable willpower to refrain from rolling her eyes. "You can't be serious."

"About a connection between motherhood and monsterhood? No. But about tracking down Esteban's killer? Absolutely."

* * *

Down in the deeps / the sea-floor sunken

So far, no sunlight / glints or glimmers

The creature lopes / crusted in barnacles

Along the crevasse / toward her homestead.

Around her hall / pale gardens quiver,

Anemones all / a-soak in salt

And at her feet / the bones of dinner

Like coral, dead / and shattered lie.

How swift the tarn-hag / swims the current!

This watery world / her natural home.

The distant gleam / of frightful yellow

A brilliant bane / burning her eyes.

* * *

"I'd go with you if you took the submersible."

Even this is a crazy offer, but Zissou, now in his wetsuit, shakes his head and continues inspecting his scuba gear, checking the oxygen levels in the tank and the soundness of the hoses. "No can do. It's not cost-effective to take Deep Search just for two."

"But why not wait until everyone else is awake? We could make an outing of it!" Even as she speaks she's aware her voice is too bright, the levity too forced.

What she isn't saying, or can't say, is that this is crazy, gallivanting off into the ocean in the night chasing figments. She may dislike Zissou, on the whole, but this feels like a suicide mission.

"This is just something I have to do alone. It's a guy thing." He carries his armful of gear to the edge of the deck and sits to begin suiting up. "Don't put this in your article."

That's unusual: Zissou not shilling for media attention, for once? "Why on earth not?"

"Because I don't know what I'm going to find down there."

"I thought that was the point. Letting life unfold, unscripted."

He scowls as he adjusts his facemask. His eyes look sadder than usual through the tempered glass.

There is a pause. "Why don't you want company?"

"I don't know if she'd show herself with you there, and Deep Search might scare her off."

Jane has to laugh. "Do you really think she cares? And how do you know it's a she?"

"I told you, I saw her swimming."

"And she's some kind of..."

"Like a Yeti, but configured for underwater. Tall and furry." He clambers backward, feet making wet rubbery sounds on the deck, toward the edge.

"Wait," Jane says, wanting desperately to stall him. "Are you sure this—" But with a splash and a wave, he's gone.

* * *

Sinking like a stone / the hero swims downward

Toward darkness and dim / streaming forests of kelp

An angelfish startles / and streaks quickly past,

Bright blue and gold / like a memory of sky.

Then he sees only night / never-ending and liquid

Like the dark firmament / in the fastness of sea.

In his hand, a torch / casts a beam, almost inky

Against the deep waters / the creature calls home.

Does he quiver, remembering / brave Esteban bleeding?

Does his heart skip a beat / in the cold of the sea?

Now his hand clenches quick / the bright is extinguished

And the dead lantern falls / toward the bottomless deep.

* * *

"He did vat?!" Klaus sounds hysterical.

"I'm sorry," Jane says, though she's not entirely sure what she's apologizing for. It's not like she could have stopped him. "He insisted."

"For God's sake, everybody, calm down." Eleanor, sounding bored as usual. "He'll be back."

"You can't know that!" Klaus storms outside to peer over the deck rail again.

For lack of anything better to do—breakfast isn't ready, and Jane's only marginally interested in eating anyway—she steps out on deck again, keeping a respectful distance from Klaus, who seems already to be mourning the loss of his captain.

To her surprise, when Ned comes out, he stands beside Klaus, not beside her. There is an aborted gesture, as though he were considering putting his arm around the other man but thinks better of it. When he speaks, it is too quietly for Jane to hear. She catches only a few words here and there: "all right" and "resilient."

After a time Klaus nods, wiping a tear surreptitiously, then straightens and walks stiffly away.

When Ned comes over, Jane pretends she wasn't just watching him with his onetime nemesis. "You worried?"

"About Stevesy?" Ned looks thoughtful. "Not really. I always had the feeling he was immortal."

Jane feels irrationally cranky. Why does everyone have such faith in him? "Esteban probably thought he was immortal too," she says, and is immediately sorry when she sees the flash of fear in Ned's eyes. "I didn't mean it," she backpedals.

"Nah, you're right, he probably did." Ned shrugs.

They stand in silence for a while, watching the waves lap at the side of the ship.

* * *

Quickly the one / who haunted those waters

Who'd scavenged and gone / her gluttonous rounds

For a hundred seasons / senses a human

Observing her lair / from the waves above.

Scenting his presence / she creeps across coral

Cautious, mistrusting / his sleek black form.

He hovers, the hero / treading water above her

Hands open, no blade / glinting ghastly alight

No ring-mail upon him / girding biceps for battle

No circlet of gemstones / piercing comfortable night.

She slips forth / and floats there before him.

He shakes his head / salt stinging his eye.

* * *

"He's back, he's back!" Whoops from the deck alert her, and then pounding footsteps as the crew rushes topside.

When Jane steps out on deck, there is Zissou, dripping wet, coiling his gear in its box and accepting a steaming cup of coffee from Ned gratefully.

"Well?" she says, expectantly, when she catches his eye.

"I was right," Zissou says. "She is pregnant."

There's a clamor of voices: what is she, can you identify, was it dangerous? He waves a hand to silence them. "I don't know, no I can't, and no. Once I got near her I realized she wasn't what killed Esteban. She couldn't have been. She's huge but she's gentle."

"Vee vere vorried," Klaus chides him. His face shows the relief and disappointment she images a son might feel after his father vanished from the nursing home without explanation.

Zissou claps him on the shoulder. "I know you were. I'm sorry, Klausie."

"Some of us more than others." Eleanor, dryly.

"You don't say." There's a pause. "Well, c'mon, everybody: let's get the engine started. We need to make it to Little Ping by midday if we're going to rescue the bond stooge."

The crew begins to disperse, the interns grumbling again. Everything is back to normal.

Jane is exhausted. Maybe it's time for a nap. She heads toward her cabin, but Zissou catches up with her and puts a cautious hand on her arm, retracting it as soon as she turns.

"Thanks," he says, simply.

The absence of oratory makes her generous. "For what?"

"For letting me go."

They stand a moment in silence and Jane feels a peculiar warmth toward him. "I'm probably leaving soon," she admits. "Maybe while you're off doing your heroic rescue."

"I figured." Zissou fingers the edge of his wetsuit, not meeting her eyes. "I hope you got what you were looking for here."

"Got a good article." It's an f-ing good story. Even Ross will agree with that.

"I guess that's something." There's a pause. "Want to hit the steam room?"

Jane supposes he wouldn't be Zissou if he weren't trying—and she means that word, she thinks ruefully, in every possible sense. "Not really, but thanks anyway."

She thinks he might be smiling, sadly, as he walks away.

  




End file.
